


When Will The Night Return?

by spiffyyy



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Airport AU, Baz is cranky, First Meetings, Happy Birthday Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Magic does not exist, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow does cosplay, help im tired and this is bad, loosely inspired by a prompt i found, so am I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22890682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffyyy/pseuds/spiffyyy
Summary: Uber drivers suck and delays should be banned. -Basil
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	When Will The Night Return?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy and happy birthday Baz!
> 
> -
> 
> Sorry if this sucks, I wrote it in one sitting.
> 
> You win if you know the song the title is from.

Baz slipped his black loafers back on after passing the security check. He nearly tripped over his own feet from trying to juggle his attention between walking and sliding on his shoes. His mouth hung open as a voice came through the intercom. 

“Flight 115 for London at gate 21 is boarding now. Flight 115 for London at gate 21 is boarding now,” A bored woman’s voice echoed over the speakers.

_ Shit. _

The dark-haired man added an extra kick to his step and gracefully hopped onto the escalator. A little girl let out a giggle as she ran down the escalator, shoving past Baz’s legs. An annoyed mother with dark eyebags dashed down after the errant child, apologizing to Baz as she passed. Yet, she wasn’t getting very far considering she was going against the force of the escalator.

He turned his attention away from the family and focused on listening for any other announcements. Baz would have been early for his flight if it wasn’t for the Uber driver. The driver had made the wrong turn about fifty times and got lost on the way to pick Baz up. To say the least, he rated Jamie a one star. Now, due to his driver, he was possibly going to miss his flight back home.

Unfortunately, no more announcements awaited Baz. Could the flight please be delayed, wasn’t it raining yesterday?

He let out a small groan at the sight of a large crowd pushing through the second level of the airport. Secondary school-aged students were laughing amongst one another, teachers trying to contain them, their efforts succeeding to no avail. Despite the early morning, the kids all seemed attentive and ecstatic about wherever they were traveling. The situation didn’t quite seem to click well with Baz’s.

A teacher gave apologetic looks to the surrounding bystanders as the students practically made a wall, blocking off the rest of the terminal. He made eye contact with the older man, Baz’s face unable to mask his irritation and grumpiness. This morning was going terrible.

He adjusted the duffle bag hanging from his shoulder and broke into a speed walk, striding into the overwhelmingly large mob of students. They made a path for Baz, his glare and no-funny-business walk intimidating the immature kids. His bag hit a couple of unsuspecting victims, he felt little remorse, they should’ve moved.

Eventually, Baz managed to shove his way through the crowd. He broke into a light jog upon hearing an announcement stating that the plane would be taking off within the next five minutes. He passed by shops, a food court and a couple of restaurants before coming across a sign saying that gates twenty through forty were in another terminal which could be accessed by a tram.

_ I swear to God. _

He changed the direction of his stride and sped down the over-populated corridor of assorted gates. People in a rush, knowing exactly where to go, were passing by Baz from every direction. He counted off the gates as he moved by each, finding they stopped at nineteen. 

A trolly station was located at the end of the hall, Baz broke into a run, realizing the tram was arriving. He knew from experience at his local airport that these trams had a very short resting time in between the trips. He dodged past vendors, his loafers clanking against the tiled floor. Luckily, the doors of the red tram were still open by the time Baz reached it.

He grabbed hold of a handle, the doors closing behind him. The car Baz had chosen with little attention seemed to also be the most popular one among just about everyone on the tram. Could he not catch a break?

To be frank, Baz was ready to just be home. The con he had attended with a couple of his friends had been fun. They were lucky enough to book a flight back to London last night after the last day. Baz had been a later thought, upon hearing they had an extra ticket after some other friend dipped out last minute. Due to this, the flight they had was fully booked by the time Baz was invited.

He was tired of America and just flat out tired. Time zones were hard for Baz, so his jetlag was shitty.

Soon enough, the tram reached terminal C and as soon as the doors opened, Baz made a run for gate twenty-one. The leather duffle bag thrashed against his side, surely he looked like a lunatic.

Luckily, gate twenty-one was the closest gate to the tram station. As he approached the boarding desk, Baz found that the door to the jet bridge was shut, an employee was stood at the desk. Was he too late?

He reached the desk and planted his palms down on the edge, his breathing uneven, “Did I make it?” Baz asked hopefully, dark pieces of hair blinded his vision.

“Unfortunately, you seem to be a tad bit late,” the man started in a sympathetic tone, Baz let out a quiet grunt, “Which normally would be fine, but some last-minute bookers got here early which gave them the seats. Our flight is completely full, no seat is available.”

Baz let his head fall onto the desk, “Fuck me…” he muttered.

“I apologize for this inconvenience, sir,” the worker said softly, but Baz just groaned.

A slam into the desk caused the man to let out a gasp, Baz kept his head down, “Oh God, I’m too late aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Baz grumbled into his button-up sleeve. 

“Fucking hell,” the voice said while the worker stayed silent.

He lifted his head back up to look at the arriver. The boy’s arms were rested lazily on the desk, freckled skin peeking out from under his hoodie, “We can schedule you guys on the next flight…” Baz paid no attention to him, and instead studied the boy. His curly hair was messily flopping against his forehead, obviously he’d been in a rush this morning. Yet, that didn’t change the fact he was strikingly handsome.

“We aren’t traveling together, but I’m fine with that I guess…” the boy muttered, queuing me to speak.

“I’ll do the same.”

“Okay, I’ll need your boarding passes and passports, please.”

Baz dug into his duffle bag and brought out the material, sliding them over to the employee. He caught a glimpse of the other boy’s boarding pass.

_ Simon _ .

Simon gave his pass to the worker before he could finish reading his name and Baz looked away, zipping up his own bag.

“Okay… it looks like the next flight to London will be at one later today. It’s currently eight am, so I suggest just hanging around the airport. There are restaurants and a couple of shops if you’d like to check those out,” The man said and booked them for the flight.

“Great,” Simon muttered sarcastically and turned away grabbing his passport and new boarding pass. The boy walked away coldly.

“Thanks,” Baz nodded and took back his passport from the worker.

~

_ A delay. _

The new flight was fucking delayed for what started as half an hour. Which quickly grew to an hour, then to three, and soon enough it was ten pm with a nine-hour delay. And were they refunded? No.

In that time of sitting, sitting and sitting some more. Baz had talked, talked and talked some more with Simon.  _ Simon Snow. _

Turns out they were pretty similar. Both were visiting friends to go to a con. It was a different con, but still. Both were from relatively the same area in Britain. They both had an unfortunate beginning to their morning, which led to an even more unfortunate day. 

The only fortunate thing about today was meeting Simon.

Now, they were sitting against a window that overlooked the runway. Simon was going on about the con he’d gone to, some fantasy type thing. His hands were flying around, doing a big portion of the talking and explaining. 

“Oh! Let me show you my cosplay, it won a contest,” He gushed and brought out his phone. He pushed the home button a couple of times, finding it wouldn’t turn on, “Must be dead… Oh! I made a post on Instagram, I can just show you from there. Could we use your phone?” He turned his head to Baz, his soft blue eyes meeting his own sterling gray ones.

“Sure,” he breathed and fished out his phone from his back pocket. Baz opened Instagram and handed Simon his phone.

He typed in his username and clicked onto a recent photo, handing the phone back to Baz. 

Simon was growling in the picture, red scales painted onto his face, gigantic wings spread out behind him. He was wearing eyeliner to give the character a more intimidating look. He had worn a fitted red-scaled shirt, spikes running down the sleeves.

“Oh, woah…” he murmured softly and absent-mindedly liked the photo.

“The wing mechanic was way hard to operate, really don’t suggest it,” he chuckled and leaned his head back against the cooling window.

“No, no, it looks really cool,” he couldn’t force his eyes away from that growl,  _ fuck. _

“Well, it’s cool until you realize how damn heavy they are. I could hardly lift my arms up,” he wheezed and Baz made the mistake of scrolling down the page of Simon’s Instagram. The next photo was of him shirtless. In bed. With messy hair and sleepy eyes.

_ Dear God why? _

He immediately turned off the phone before he could look further into Simon’s account, “Are you getting peckish?”

“Yeah, the sign says we’re gonna board in ten minutes. Wanna bet that’s not gonna happen?” Simon responded in a sarcastic tone.

“Oh definitely, I think we’re safe to go grab food.”

As it turns out, they were not safe to go grab food. Ten minutes later, the plane was boarding. Simon and he had sprinted back to the gate, crisps and fizzy drinks in hand. They’d made it, but it’d been close.

~

A week after Baz returned back home, he received a follow request on Instagram.

_ Siw0n.sn0m has requested to follow you _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Accepted. _


End file.
